“How romantic!” The Archduchess clasped her hands together. “Imagine a kind of love that transcends time like that. I am certain she will remember him and they will rekindle their love.”
Klemens toyed with his fork. “Yes. Well, that remains to be seen. I have seen Catherine, or Lena Arenheim, as she calls herself now, and as far as I know, she hasn’t regained her memory yet.”
His sister sighed. “But when she does, how wonderful that will be for her and the duke. To find one’s true love…again. They may count themselves twice lucky to experience that. Even more so to have married their true love. That is not a destiny that awaits either of us, I am afraid.” His sister leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Though the Grand Duchess seems to have taken a liking to you. She has been trying to catch your eye throughout the entire supper, haven’t you noticed?”
Pippa nearly dropped the soup tureen that she was holding. She cast a swift look across the table and concluded the Archduchess was right. The GrandDuchess was trying to catch Klemens’ attention by batting her eyelashes.
Klemens met her look, and she simpered.
A dark feeling of jealousy coursed through her. If she could dump the soup over her head, she would, but she was out of reach, alas. Besides, Pippa had no time to investigate the feeling, because the choreography of the footmen was relentless. She had to turn and march back with the tureen in her hands.
She felt a trickle of sweat on her neck, and suddenly her limbs felt heavy. Walking felt like treading through water. She lined up behind the other footmen, and it took all her strength to carry the tureen back without dropping it. Her hands were sweaty, and shivers racked her body.
The last course was coming, then it was over, she told herself, wiping her wet hands on her breeches. She could do this.
Klemens still hadn’t noticed her; he had not an inkling that she’d been standing right behind him for nearly four courses. She wanted him to know she was there. Now, even more so, with the Grand Duchess sitting across from him trying to catch his eye.
The opportunity came when the sweets were served. Pippa handed the Archduchess a platter with colourful confections, which caused her to break out in delight, and as she reached out to touch a piece of fondant shaped into a pink swan, she dropped it on the ground.
“Oh, dear,” she exclaimed.
Pippa instantly knelt to pick it up. The head had broken off the swan, and she wondered whatto do with it. She could hardly hand it back to the Archduchess, nor could she put it back onto the serving plate. If she kept holding it in her hand, she couldn’t hold the golden serving plate properly. As she knelt on the ground, hesitating, Klemens glanced down at her.
And then he looked away.
Pippa narrowed her eyes. That really couldn’t be. Did he truly not recognise her? Was he blind?
“No worries, Your Highness, there are other swans on the plate,” she murmured in a low voice.
Klemens’ head snapped back.
This time, their eyes met.
Finally.
His eyes widened in astonished recognition.
He spluttered.
Pippa threw him a speaking look, but she had to get up, as the footmen were about to retreat.
Pippa stepped back just as Klemens was turning his head to look after her.
She made an unobtrusive motion with her hand to indicate that he should turn around again.
He did so, with a frown.
Exhaustion seeped through her. They had to stand motionless along the wall behind them, in a straight line, until the guests finished eating their sweets. How long would that take? Afterwards they had to serve liquor. It was never-ending.
She heard the clinking of silver on porcelain, the conversation of the people, and the soft plucking of the harp that played in the background. The heady smell offlowers mixed with food and alcohol had grown thick and overpoweringly sweet.
It was hot; too hot.
The entire room swam in front of Pippa’s eyes.
She felt the walls tumble in upon themselves, and then—everything was black.
Chapter Twenty-Five
